


Keep the Demons Away

by Stormraven24



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-11-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 12:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2621135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormraven24/pseuds/Stormraven24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>post-A New Dawn, pre-Rebels. One doesn't just forget the extermination of his people. Thankfully, someone is there to offer comfort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep the Demons Away

**Author's Note:**

> Written pre-SoR and -AND, so please don't correct me on inconsistencies with the show or book.

Hera didn't know she'd slipped into a doze until something jolted her awake with a jarring _snap_. The hypnotic optical illusion created by hyperspace outside the main viewport was normally soothing, but she didn't pay it any mind. It was a whimper that had woken her, and not a soft, pitiful one. This was a painful, heartwrenching sound that she'd hoped to never hear again, not after the first time.

Fully alert now, Hera looked over at her companion with a cold weight in the pit of her stomach. Kanan was slumped in the co-pilot's chair, just where she'd left him, but his arms and legs were twitching violently. He was in the grip of another nightmare...another memory.

She desperately tried to swallow her panic and worry as she made her way over to him. “Kanan,” she called as she shook his shoulder. “Kanan, wake up.” He flinched away from her touch but couldn't get far. Hera tried again. This time she got a result: he curled into himself with a plaintive cry that seemed to come from a place deep in his very soul. Her heart broke and her grip grew tighter. “Kanan! Wake up now!”

Blue eyes snapped open just milliseconds before he tried to launch himself from the chair. Hera's hands on his shoulder and arm pushed him back down, however. Terror and agony shone from those eyes as they began to focus. Harsh breaths echoed through the cabin. And throughout it all, Hera stood by him. Sympathy and concern poured from her eyes when Kanan finally looked at her, finally fully awake. She didn't say anything; she didn't want to push him back down that road until he was good and ready.

“I'm sorry,” he said, his voice strained and cracked. “I didn't mean to wake you.”

Hera knelt in front of him, her hands going to gently cup his face with the lightest of touches. “Don't worry about that. Are you alright?”

She expected him to say he was, that it was just a stupid nightmare and that she should stop fretting. “I lived it again,” he whispered, grasping one of her hands with shaking fingers. “I felt it happen all over again, Hera.”

She didn't need to ask for further explanation; she knew exactly what he was talking about. The Jedi Purge. Kanan had just been a teenager, still a child when it happened. To be so young and to feel that kind of loss, to be told to run, hide, stay away from Coruscant, the place he had called home, to never use his abilities again if he wanted to live. It had to have been torture of the worst kind. And now, nearly a decade later, he still suffered from the memory.

“Kanan...” She had no words, none that would make any difference, at least. If there was one thing Hera Syndulla hated more than anything, even more than the Empire itself, it was this feeling of utter helplessness. There was nothing she could do to comfort her closest friend while he struggled to deal with the single most traumatic experience of his life. And she absolutely _hated_ it. “I'm so sorry.”

Kanan shut his eyes tightly against the feelings and mental images she knew he was battling and let out a harsh, long breath that made his shoulders rattle. “I need a drink.”

He had only barely left the chair when he was pushed back down. Hard. Hera had risen to her feet and fixed him with a stony glare at those words. “No, you don't.”

“Hera-”

“ _No._ First, there's none onboard. Second, I am _not_ letting you go back down that road again.” She knew she was risking a long stint of the cold shoulder from him, but he had made her promise him months ago, back when he had joined her on the _Ghost_ in the fight against the Empire, that she would never let him touch alcohol again. He'd admitted that he knew it was a crutch, the only way he knew how to deal with the pain that threatened to overtake him. And once he'd found something worthwhile to do with his life, he'd never wanted to drink again. Hera fully intended to keep him on that track even if he hated her for it. “You've been sober for seven months, Kanan. I'm not going to let you throw that away now.”

His gaze grew hard then. His fingers fell from her wrist to grip the armrest of his chair. “And what else do you suggest I do,  _captain_ ?”

She flinched at the way he said that word, like it was an insult. Where his eyes were hard with pain now, hers softened. “Let me help you. I know I'm not Force-sensitive, and I can't begin to imagine what you've been through, but drowning yourself in poison isn't the answer, and you know it.” Her fingers slid up the sides of his face to brush over the hair at his temples. “Please don't make me the bad guy, Kanan. I know I'm not much, but let me at least  _try_ to help you.”

He blinked, the hard set of his eyes and jaw relaxing at her plea. “Don't say that,” he sighed, turning his gaze to the floor. “You're worth a lot more than booze.”

Hera smiled, a gentle, long-suffering one, but a smile nonetheless. “Coming from you, that's a mighty big compliment.” She didn't miss the way one corner of his mouth turned up. “Allow me?” The pause that filled the air seemed to stretch into an eternity for Hera. He looked up at her, his gaze now tinged with a vulnerability she had never seen in him before. At his nod she let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

Before he could form a word of protest, the Twi'lek slid into his lap, her legs dangling over the armrest and her arms around his shoulders. Her older brother Cham used to hold her like this whenever she became upset by something; of course, she would be the one in Cham's lap as he did the comforting, but she doubted Kanan would have appreciated sitting in hers (not to mention he was too heavy for her anyway).

“Hera...”

She shushed him, gently pulling his head down to her shoulder as she began to hum; it was the same song Cham would sing to her. She didn't remember all the words, but the tune was what had always stuck in her mind. She hummed it to herself whenever she couldn't sleep these days; hopefully Kanan could draw some comfort from it as well. Her theory was soon proven when he relaxed under her and his arms went around her waist. She smiled and pressed her cheek into the top of his head, one hand stroking his hair.

At some point during her wordless serenade, Hera heard a faint rumble: Kanan had fallen back asleep and was now snoring ever so lightly. She ran the backs of her fingers down his face, happy when his arms tightened around her at the touch. She wished she could do more to keep his nightmares away permanently, but she was content that this method seemed to help at least for the time being.

It was selfish and she prayed it wouldn't come to pass in the same manner, but Hera couldn't help but hope that they would sit together like this again in the future. After all, his lap was surprisingly comfortable compared to her pilot's chair. Not that she'd tell him that; he'd never let her live it down if she did.  _Smug idiot,_ she thought with a grin. It was the last thought she had before losing herself in her song entirely, all of her focus on helping Kanan sleep peacefully.


End file.
